


Interruptions

by visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Bad Moon Rising [4]
Category: Alias (TV), Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Crossover, Dark, M/M, this one is more goofy than dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-29
Updated: 2005-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: A brief glimpse of another liason between Sark and Keller, wherein Sark receives a phone call. (And Marshall Flinkman presumably hears too much and not enough.)
Relationships: Chris Keller/Julian Sark, Chris Keller/Other(s)
Series: Bad Moon Rising [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942621
Kudos: 2





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Probably less dark and more goofy than anything else in this series, but they are still killers and all.
> 
> For miladygrey

The nudge of heat and the rough slide of hands over Sark's hips was halted by the insistent ring of a cell phone. His SD-6 issued cell phone. 

Chris leaned down and...growled against his skin the second Sark's attention was diverted by even the slightest margin. Sark paused there, just at the edge of pleasantly breathless, knees digging into the mattress, worn scratching fabric of the thin pillow under his steadying grip. The feel was different than the lavish hotels he chose when he had the luxury to do so. He was used to dragging his cheek over starched cool pillowcases, pressing into those high mattresses that were the perfect combination of soft but supportively firm. Sometimes necessity demanded certain conceits. Thin rock hard mattress under him, the feel of a spring pressing into the bone of his knee. Smell of cigarettes imbedded in the very carpet covering other stale smells. He didn't really mind. It was all for a different kind of luxury. All that feral heat and muscle at his back.

But duty called louder than anything else. Sark reached for the phone, wondering how the action would be taken by his companion. 

Should be interesting.

He was caught before he reached the phone by the crush of weight on his back, that body moving to press tight to his as a hand clamped around his wrist. Sark gave in to it and let his body collapse to the mattress with an amused exhale.

"What are you doing?" That growl forming husked words at his ear, followed by the hot sharp clamp of teeth on his earlobe.

Sark stayed still, underneath Chris, savoring the new trapped heat of it, his hardness digging almost painfully into the mattress now. "I need to take this call." He explained calmly, the tug of the smirk at his lips hidden in the pillow.

"Let the fucking thing ring." Dart of tongue at the rim of his ear more of a tease than meant to soothe the bite.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. It's a business matter." Sark admitted regretfully.

He felt the tightening of that grip, dull light pain adding to the speed of his blood, before Chris eased up and he could move without struggle.

"Thank you." Sark said with a suppressed grin as he quickly grabbed the small phone, flipping it open and answering it immediately. "Yes?"

"Mr. Sark?" 

He knew that slightly hesitant, but overly energetic voice. Marshall Flinkman. Strange. He knew the man had the number, yet he'd never worked up the nerve to use it, preferring to only deal with Sark during the pre-mission outfitting of Op-Tech when those nervous technology-excited eyes could address Sydney instead of him. 

Sark enjoyed the barest brush of insistent hard damp across his ass as a strong hand slid off his wrist instead of just letting him go. A long caress moving steadily over his side, full of purpose. Christopher pulled off of his body, leaving him bereft and un-stifled, back exposed to cool air. But that powerful form stayed there behind him. Over him, strong legs on either side of his. He could feel the dip of the bed, dig of knees brushing his thighs.

"Yes, Marshall?" Sark carefully avoided using the man's last name as he usually would. Didn't want Mr. Keller to start tracking people down. He could hear the pause as the other man was thrown by that. "Something urgent?" Sark prompted him.

"Oh. Yes. No. Well, sort of. Not really. I need to know before the mission, but I could work from an adjustable prototype now but it would be better to have your specifications --"

Sark cut off the line of babble before it got away. "What information do you need?"

"Who's Marshall?" Devilishly smooth deep voice behind him as those hands were back on his hips. 

"Work related." Sark explained simply, tilting the phone away just enough to clarify that he was not speaking to Mr. Flinkman, rather than trying to hide the words. 

"Fuck work." Darkly playful dismissal clipped out as he was tugged up by that rough grasp. 

Sark let himself be pulled back into heat. Moving with the touch, taking it further, until his back hit that broad chest. Both of them up on their knees now, his legs tangled and pressed tightly between Chris's slightly spread ones. Braced together. He could practically feel that sharp grin at his evasive answer against his shoulder as an arm snaked around his waist. Another tight demanding grip. The nudge of that hardness turning into a close full press, nestling there between his cheeks.

Sark could've held in his reaction. Considered it for a fraction of a second before he gave in. Letting Mr. Flinkman hear, because it didn't matter. The joyful hitching exhale of his breath subtly unmistakable. 

It did have the unwanted side effect of drawing out the phone call even more, as Marshall's end of the phone was filled with the equally unmistakable quiet of shocked listening. That mind trying to place things and stumbling like the words usually did when everything came too fast.

Sark rubbed back against that solid wanting body, getting a gravelly pleased noise of his own. Ghosting over his shoulder...into the phone as well, most likely.

"Your question?" Sark prompted again, breath sped up past conversation because he let it free to follow his pulse. Not letting this be dampened. 

"W-what are you doing? Uh -- I mean if you're busy it's not -- I've never had to call you before but it's easier to not go through channels for one question and I -- " Scattered and thrown.

"It's fine. But if I may hurry things along..." Sark turned his voice firm and guiding. Showing mercy by giving Flinkman something else steady to focus on while he ignored the other sounds. The thrill of the illicit pleasure in this was tampered by impatience. 

"Uh -- yes. Okay. Question. I had a question." It worked enough, although there were unstoppably curious questions warring with a desire to run away in that voice. "What's your belt size? Uh -- your waist measurements. See, I'm designing this --"

Sark cut him off again. "We'll go over it during Op-tech, yes?" Sark confirmed before telling him the measurements he needed. Starting in his best precise tones...but dissolving into an blissfully unrestrained groan as Mr. Keller surprised him with that rough grip demanding things of his cock now. Warm firm hand as teeth dug into his shoulder. Impatient.

"G--good. Got it. Bye. Thanks." The line went dead before Marshall gave in and asked. 

For the best, probably. Because Sark was of half a mind to tell him.

***

End


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